by Gary Starta
“What’s with the red ribbon?”
Tara slid her wrist underneath the kitchen table a second too late. Caitlin had seen the red string fastened around it.
“I see you like your assignment at Genesis. Maybe you should consider becoming a full time employee.” The threat produced immediate results.
“It’s for protection.”
“Protection from what, from whom?”
Tara hedged. She wanted to come clean and give an honest answer, but decided against it. The robe freaked her out. The way Caitlin strode around in it didn’t help matters. Tara didn’t want to give Caitlin any more reason to believe the fuschia robe was magical or quite possibly...evil. Instead, Tara gave a generic answer.
“From the evil eye.”
“Come on, Tara. Work may not always be exciting or rewarding, but you don’t need a protection spell .”
“Seriously, the string was suggested by my coworker, Peter. He was the one who gave me some dirt on Sutter. It would have been rude not to take his advice.”
“We wouldn’t want you to be rude, now would we?”
“Peter says the string is also known as the red thread of destiny. It symbolizes the East Asian belief that everyone is connected to a soul mate by an invisible red tether. I think it’s kind of like that six degrees of separation theory.”
“What about the protection you mentioned? Surely the string doesn’t protect you from your soul mate?”
“Correct. It possesses a duality of sorts. It connects us to the positive while protecting against the negative. Negative energy sources impact us every day, you know.” Tara paused to eye Caitlin, allowing her insinuation to take hold. Caitlin didn’t flinch. “Some celebrities are mistakenly calling them Kabbalah bracelets, when in reality they have more do to with Greek and Roman beliefs. But I—I mean Peter—believes they really do ward off evil.”
“And how much did this little accessory cost me?”
“Only twenty-six bucks. Consider it a business expense.”
“A business expense I’m not going to be reimbursed for anytime soon. You know this Peter may have good intentions, but only a scam artist could sell a piece of red string for twenty-six bucks.”
“Well, in his defense, he didn’t sell it to me. I bought it at the mall.”
“Before you tell me what else you bought with my money, how about telling me what Peter had to say about Mr. Sutter?”
“The red thread you so disparage broke the ice, so to speak. Peter took me into his confidence after I took interest in the bracelet.” Tara paused for acknowledgement.
“Okay. Okay. It’s a legitimate business expense—continue, please.”
“Peter said Sutter’s persona grew darker and darker during his final months at Genesis. No one was really surprised, though. He had lost a son in the war. On top of that, his wife committed suicide over the death. He began criticizing the military. It didn’t matter who was within earshot as long as they appeared to take interest in his rant. Sutter shared explicit details about a top-secret drug trial the company had participated in. He swore he would never aid the armed forces again. Many of the employees, including Peter, avoided him fearing grief had wrestled away his sanity.”
“Hold it right there. Like that red string, you’ve made a connection.”
“So he hates the military. Most antiwar people do.”
“Tara , his son enlisted with the army voluntarily. I have to believe at one time Sutter condoned his son’s decision. What you’re telling me about a failed drug trial now begins to make sense. If Sutter and the military broke their liaison over the son’s death, the army may have gone elsewhere to procure the drugs.”
“What kind of drugs?”
“I can’t tell you that, Tara. This is an open investigation.”
“One I’m participating in.”
“Sorry, that kind of information might only put you in danger.”
“Good thing I bought the bracelet, huh?”
“Maybe so, and I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about the money. You really aided the investigation. I should have suspected the military all along.” Diggs scolded herself. She had let Connah Hainsworth cloud her judgment and impact her profiling. She had to let go of the notion that Hainsworth was lurking behind every tree. If she didn’t, she would lose total focus on the case. Worse, she would become the close-minded agent she always loathed. All these deductions shared one thing in common. Each prompted Caitlin to believe Connah Hainsworth to be innocent. Tomorrow she would begin testing her new theories.
***
“This is a matter of national security.” Diggs’s choice of words prompted action. The Joint Chief of Staff’s secretary Margo Wallington scheduled an interview at two o’clock in the Pentagon. Diggs would meet with General Otis Farnell, Chief of Staff of the US Army. Wallington led her to the general’s office a half hour early. The words “national security” caught the attention of the man responsible for US troop deployment. Farnell cleared all other appointments from his calendar to see Diggs. He was eager to hear any news that might further support America’s involvement in Iraq.
Diggs wasted no time intimating a conspiracy existed. “My investigation leads me to believe the US Army now poses the biggest threat to the nation’s security. My question to you is simple. Are you involved, General Farnell, and do you know who else is?”
“When you speak to me, Agent Diggs, you are speaking to a collective. We are conducting no such tests, agent. Hypothetically, if the military were involved in such a heinous conspiracy, the National Security Council would have conducted an internal investigation by now. No formal or informal inquisitions have ever been made to my knowledge. I am curious as to how you arrived at your conclusion.”
Diggs knew she had caught Farnell in an outright lie. This man knew damn well psychotropic drug development existed. She might have even believed him if he swore the tests had been aborted. But the general followed the military’s golden rule: admit nothing, deny everything. Diggs also realized she had no concrete evidence to link the general with Genesis Biopharmaceuticals or the people who had conspired to terrorize Gregory Salinger. As the agent prepared a response for Farnell, she felt someone or something had intruded upon her very being. Emotions coursed throughout Diggs’s body, her legs weakened beneath her, her face color lightened a shade.
“Are you all right, Agent Diggs?”
Her head swam as a bizarre notion began to take hold. She had experienced Farnell’s emotional reaction to her inquiry. He had felt both shock and anger. It was as if he had been left out of the loop. Yes, his emotions did indicate he had known of such tests, but his internal responses also conveyed duplicity. Maybe someone had continued the tests without Farnell’s knowledge?
Diggs accepted a glass of ice water from the general who rushed to her aid. She took a seat she had initially refused.
“I apologize, General. I must be coming down with something.”
The general’s confrontational tone softened.
“We’re firmly entrenched in flu season, Ms. Diggs. I hope you received your inoculation?”
Diggs found humor in his response. Men like Farnell never let down their guard. Even if the enemy was simply a germ.
The momentary lapse of conversation allowed the general to prepare a defense.
“I am as sorry as any American to hear about the tragic death of Gregory Salinger. If someone did indeed chemically engineer his death, wouldn’t terrorists be your first suspects?”
The general knew how to elicit support. Diggs did not fail to notice the small twinkle of pity in his eyes for Salinger. At the same time, she did not misconstrue his self-serving attempt to steer blame away from the Army.
“We are investigating all possibilities, and in order to eliminate suspects, we must consider all likely candidates.”
“I will admit that our past is not all that rosy. I expect liberals to take every opportunity to knock us, but not our own government.”
> “Please explain, General.”
“Look at Agent Orange. Did we knowingly subject our soldiers to this toxic agent during Vietnam? I highly doubt it. I maintain my predecessors were simply unaware of the unfortunate consequences, although some still swear today we exposed our men and women to the equivalent of a plague. All arguments aside, this unfortunate debacle served to enlighten us. We know damn well you can’t play God with chemicals anymore. It’s unconscionable. Science dictates that. For this reason, I deny any connection to any medicine or chemical that could ultimately harm our own citizens. Additionally, the drug you allege to have killed Homeland Security Director Salinger could never be manufactured by us. What you describe is far beyond the capabilities of even our best DARPA scientists. Besides, they’re far too enamored with improving battlefield communications and the deployment of robotic soldiers.”
Diggs began to doubt the general again. His counteroffensive defied credibility. Certainly, the DARPA scientists had been quite capable of engineering the impossible. One might only look at ARPANET, an advanced computer networking system that later became the internet. If they could develop the internet, they could certainly manufacture a brain-altering drug. And if DARPA couldn’t make the impossible possible, why would the agency still be in existence? She pushed against the chimerical doorway Farnell had quickly fashioned. If she didn’t, her literal doorway to the military might be shut at any moment.
“I’m inclined to agree with you, sir.”
“I’m glad you see the logic.”
“Yes, I hope the person in your organization who is working to manufacture this psychotropic weapon will arrive at the same conclusions you did. You can’t play God with chemicals.”
“Agent Diggs, what are you inferring? I told you the Army is clean.”
“Sir, you’ll hear me out if you’re the least bit interested in stopping whoever is managing to escape your radar. Those responsible for Mr. Salinger’s demise may have duped you into believing the research had ended. Reliable sources tell me different. So even if DARPA had been incapable of creating such a drug, men in your organization may have attempted to develop it in the private sector. I think they used Greg Salinger as a test subject. Soon, they’ll release this drug among the troops. They probably believe it’s their only means to win a war some say we have lost. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Am I right, General?” Diggs did not pause for an answer. “Filling your soldiers with unbridled rage will only result in collateral damage. It’s the reason why I believe Salinger committed suicide. I saw how erratic his behavior was on that ledge. I also witnessed my partner become intoxicated by this drug. Since it acts as a virus, it can’t be regulated to specific test subjects because it can’t be contained. Therefore, you must disseminate this knowledge among your organization. Help me find those responsible before they only make a bloody battlefield bloodier. Let’s make Greg Salinger the last casualty, the last example of science gone horribly wrong.”
The general did not verbally respond, but his eyes told Diggs he would take it under consideration. Another wave of Farnell’s emotion gripped Diggs. She felt regret.
Diggs returned to headquarters a half hour later to retrieve voicemail.
One message awaited her. Cryptic and short, the man on the message tape implored her to meet him at a posh DC eatery called Gallagher’s. He cited an urgent need to put Diggs’s investigation back on course.
“You’ve gone off track, Agent Diggs. Meet me at Gallagher’s in half an hour.”
***
“You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me why I’m off track and how the hell you know my name.”
“Very well, Agent Diggs. I appreciate that you value time. For that reason, I don’t want you to squander what little time you have left before another victim is claimed.”
“I’m still not hearing a valid reason why I shouldn’t add you to my suspect’s list. As a federal agent, I demand you identify yourself.”
“My own identity is not as important as my group’s identity.”
Diggs shifted in her chair, using body language to indicate she might bolt from the pricey restaurant at a moment’s notice. The man appeared distinguished. His thick snow white hair and matching handlebar-like mustache reminded Diggs of a former professor. The resemblance made her ponder. It gave the elderly man another second or so to plead his case.
“All right. I’ll tell you. My name is Ian Fromme. I dabble in science, so to speak. You may or may not have heard of the organization I work for. But as a federal investigator, I suspect you have.”
“Get on with it, Mr. Fromme.”
“I’m with the Jasons.”
“The secret group of scientists who consult for the President?”
“More or less.”
“And why do you feel my investigation is going off course? In the interests of time, I won’t ask you to explain how you’ve managed to eavesdrop on my last interview.”
“I didn’t need to eavesdrop. News travels fast in my circle, especially when an FBI agent visits the Pentagon. People in power take notice. You took quite a risk challenging the military. But they’re not the ones you should be chasing.”
“How so?”
“The military wouldn’t attack a high profile security director to test a drug. The army prefers to maintain a low profile. That’s why General Farnell may have genuinely been surprised to learn of the drug’s possible involvement in the Salinger case.”
“If you believe there’s a danger, why do you say possible involvement?”
“Those would be General Farnell’s words. I know it’s not only possible, it’s highly probable. Unlike Farnell, I am ready to admit a blueprint for such a drug did exist, a few short years ago. The Jasons not only work to develop new science, but also endeavor to maintain a moral standard. The proposal of such an idea sent panic through the scientific community. We couldn’t fathom what good if any this psychotropic drug would be to America. A soldier, chemically encouraged to engage in fits of rage, would also impose a danger not only to the enemy, but also to himself and his entire battalion.”
Fromme paused to sip his Earl Gray tea.
“This drug must have had a name at some point.”
“Yes. I don’t know what they call it now. It was only a prototype back then. We never gave it a scientific name.” Fromme stroked some fray hairs on his mustache, lost in recollection. “I remember now. We dubbed it as the ‘Emotional Bonding Malady.’”
“Funny name for something that induces rage.”
“We named it so because of the way the drug binds itself with the part of the brain stem called the locus ceruleus. There it begins behaving like a virus, in theory, enabling neurons to project bilaterally.”
“Sir, we already know this. The CEO of Genesis Biopharmaceuticals admitted as much to my partner. Theory is nine tenths of reality.”
“But did you notice how I said, ‘in theory’. At that point in time, we thought it would be impossible to engineer specific emotional responses. We rejected the development of the drug hoping interest would dwindle out and die. We doubted the military, or even its scientific research branch, DARPA, could ever hope to pinpoint specific targets of the brain with the Emotional Bonding Malady or EBM. Now, I believe science has finally found a way. This drug cannot only induce rage, but other emotions as well. You could make someone love you or even lust for you with EBM. As you can guess, the military doesn’t have much use for those kind of emotions.”
“So the drug behaves like a virus. Is it alive?”
“Well, the definition of life often mutates as time progresses. Technically, I would say yes. It’s alive as a cloned cell is considered to be alive. But in this case, it’s a short life span of no more than twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Diggs mulled over Fromme’s response. The short life span of the drug would explain why Rivers tested negatively a day after coming into contact with it. Diggs paused to take a few sips of water, hoping she could rea
d into Fromme’s thoughts like she did with General Farnell. But Diggs found she could not evoke this ability through sheer will. It would only occur naturally and spontaneously. Fromme inferred the silence as an invitation to continue.
“You must continue your investigation. I’m afraid this is all the help I can give.”
“I’ve got to consider your motives for telling me this.”
“My motives are good, although you won’t be able to analyze them through normal channels.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you choose to conduct a background check on me, you’ll only find that I’m a retired DARPA scientist. The Jasons don’t exist on paper, plain and simple.”
“Arrogance only raises suspicions.”
“I apologize, Agent Diggs. I did not intend to come off as flippant. I simply must uphold the credo of the Jasons. We act as a moral compass for our country’s leaders. We hope to lead them to not only the best decisions, but to the most ethical decisions. The only reason the stars and stripes continue to fly over this land is because we shaped events through science and technology to keep it that way.”
“Okay, so you’re watching America’s back. Now, what about the enemy? Would you hesitate to inflict—let’s say—a necessary evil to influence a desired outcome?”
“I can only speak for myself and the Jasons. The answer is an unequivocal no.”
Diggs left the restaurant, frustration growing. She had been unable to access Fromme’s emotions, if that was indeed his real name. Frustration would soon segue way into headlong confusion when Diggs accessed a new voicemail message. This time, TV journalist Ross Fisher left her a cryptic message.
Chapter 15